Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

Haunted

Warning- Completely unnecessary and shameful smut

Most of the days at the castle of Arras indeed consisted of meetings. The few noblemen who didn't participate used to hunt, while the ladies used to busy themselves in preparations for the betrothal. Hunting involved going in the woods and mingling with other people, so naturally it didn't entice our two alchemists. With practically nothing to do, Charmolue was getting increasingly bored, and followed Frollo everywhere, much to the minister's vexation.

After a day of unsuccessfully dodging the proctor, Frollo stood at the door of his chamber, saying, 'Jacques, I wish to study in my room. You may leave.'

'Can't I help? We can discuss our discovery together. Or philosophy in general?'

'No,' he said firmly. The door closed.

Charmolue asked himself why everyone was acting so strange toward him. That morning he had friendlily tried to talk to Maximilian, hoping to get enlightened on what exactly their course of action was going to be. He had been casually dismissed and told that if anything important happened, Minister Frollo would inform him. The King, well, couldn't be expected to spend his time conversing with torturers, especially those who came to political events without a particular purpose. But he could've at least greeted him or inquired whether his stay was going comfortably.

Had they taken so much offence at him disappearing from the dinner?

--

Frollo heaved a sigh of relief. He was all alone now.

Removing his hat, he walked towards the inactive fireplace. Days were getting colder with the approach of October, and burning of fireplaces became a necessity after sunset. Things were probably the same in Paris too. He imagined what it must be like in the Palace of Justice, with the flame sitting in front of the fire. He found the sentence highly amusing.

"She must be lonely. Drowning herself in wretchedness. Staying with me might be unpleasant, but it's by all means better than staying in a Palace alone."

Seating himself in an armchair, he theorized that she would likely be more agreeable when he returned. He wouldn't even need to break the bargain. After all, there was barely anyone for her to talk to, no other thing or person to think about. And who knew, maybe she missed their intimacy? He imagined her melodious voice calling out, saying that she was pining for him. His hand slipped underneath his robe.

Undressing herself, she would fall into his control, but he wouldn't let her get her release, not until she moaned every specific thing she pined for, confessing that the pleasure outweighed the pain. Then, and only then would he allow her to grasp him.

He rubbed himself taking help of the layers of his clothes, dreaming her under him, giggling at the contact of their bodies. He lowly moaned from the strokes.

She begged him to sink deeper, singing praises of his ability that she had so foolishly been ignorant of. The thrusts made her breasts bounce, while their features writhed from the intensity of the bliss.

As he sped up, the guard outside his chamber became louder. He could hear knocks on his door, voices asking him to come out.

But she was flirtatiously grinning like a Cheshire cat, taunting that he couldn't make love to her once more. Her black eyes and hair shone like silk, knowing well that the committed intellectual was a slave to them. A fly had been allowed to wander too far. She must be put into her place. And the spider would make sure of it, he resolved before pouncing on her again.

King Louis and Esmeralda's shouts seemed to come at the same time.

'Oh God! Claude, where are you?'

'Oh God! Claude, please...oh, you do it so well, hmm...'